


Finally

by srmutter6811



Series: Bloom [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Marco Bott, Alpha Mikasa Ackerman, Alpha Ymir (Shingeki no Kyojin), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, College!AU, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Omega Armin Arlert, Omega Jean Kirstein, oh my god they were roommates, they already live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmutter6811/pseuds/srmutter6811
Summary: "Oh, we're dancing in my living roomAnd up come my fistsAnd I say, "I'm only playing"But the truth is thisThat I've never seen a mouthThat I would kill to kissAnd I'm terrified, but I can't resist"(OR: Jean and Marco are idiot roommates pining after each other, and their friends finally convince Jean to make a move.)
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Series: Bloom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680901
Comments: 19
Kudos: 76





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

> I took some of the prompts from the Jean/Marco Revival and used them bc I was bored and need to get the creative juices flowing again. 
> 
> Disclaimer! I've never written an ABO fic before, so excuse any glaring mistakes. Enjoy!
> 
> (Lyrics in the summary are "Finally // beautiful stranger" by Halsey.)

I was approximately 90 seconds from passing out in my morning lecture when Marco texted me.

**What do you want for dinner?**

I rubbed my face and took a drink of the coffee I brought with me. The offer was nothing romantic, unfortunately. Why the hell was he asking me this _right now_?

**I dunno. Do we have any meat in the freezer?**

Setting my phone down, I sighed and started doodling on the margins of my notebook. Why did I bother to come to this lecture at 8 AM? The professor posted the slides online for us to look at, and we had a discussion group later in the afternoon. There really was no point for me to be here, right?

The one time I bitched about it to Eren, he told me that I was an overachiever by nature, and I’d feel worse if I missed the lecture, so shut the fuck up. He was right, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. 

**No :(**

We both had been putting off going grocery shopping since we were getting paid at the end of the week, but it looked like we weren’t gonna have a choice. All I could find for breakfast was a sleeve of PopTarts and whatever was left in the coffeepot from yesterday. Breakfast of champions. 

With a sigh, I texted him that we should go to the store. We made plans to go once we were done with our classes for the day, and I put my phone away so I could pretend to focus on what this elderly man was trying to teach us. 

* * *

I have a problem.

I live a pretty average life for a college student. I get good grades, I have a job that pays the bills, and I’m pursuing a major I really enjoy. I’m still friends with people from home, but I’ve also made a lot more since starting college, and--thankfully--the two groups fit together seamlessly. 

Seems perfect, right? Actually, the issue is a bit more complicated than the normal, superficial stuff. 

It’s my roommate. 

We’ve been friends forever since we grew up next door to each other. I can’t even remember a day I didn’t know Marco Bodt. They used to say that I only kicked in my mom’s womb when Marco was around as if I knew my best friend was there. 

As soon as I was born, we were absolutely inseparable.

If one of us joined a school activity, the other was sure to follow. If I was having a bad day, Marco was always there to cheer me up and vice versa. When one of us skipped classes for the hell of it, the other did too. We worked at different departments in the same grocery store, had the same group of friends, and we even applied to the same colleges.

Our friendship was nothing, if not perfect. So what was my deal with him if we were so close?

Well, I was absolutely, positively, 100% in-love with him. There wasn’t a thing I’d change about him from his incessant snoring to the tiny scar on the back of his arm from when he fell out of a tree we were climbing.

As I said before, we never did anything without the other, and that was true even when we presented. It was our sophomore year when he told me he thought he was presenting, and he wouldn’t be leaving the house for a few days. We’d been taught all about it at school, and I was worried that he was in pain. If we hadn’t been able to text each other, I definitely would’ve busted down the door to see him. 

When I _did_ get to see him, it was like fate came and hit me over the head with her purse. He didn’t really look any different, but he _smelled_ different. He didn’t smell like a grass-kneed, gap-toothed kid anymore. He smelled like chai and smoke and _alpha_ and... and he smelled _delicious_. I spent the whole afternoon trying not to breathe in this new, addictive scent and hoped he didn’t notice.

About two days later, I also had to stay home because I presented--as an _omega_ , no less. It was like my body decided that afternoon that it wanted Marco and made the changes accordingly. I had this thought while I was desperately trying to get off and relieve the symptoms of the minor heat I was thrown into. Romantic, right?

I managed to chalk up all the sudden feelings I realized I had to a fake reaction my body was having as a sign that I was about to present. That lasted about a year before I finally realized that no, these feelings were _definitely_ real, and they weren’t caused by some wack-ass hormone changes. I also realized that I couldn’t tell him because I didn’t know how he felt, and I couldn’t risk losing him--it would _kill_ me.

So here we are. Roommates. Unrequited love. It was like the beginning of a bad romance novel. 

* * *

Going back to our apartment from classes was one of the small joys in my life. We’ve lived in the same apartment for a year and a half almost, and it was so dumb, but I loved that it smelled like _us_. The combination of chai and vanilla always made me feel warm and comforted. Safe. It felt strange being so aware of my own scent throughout the apartment, but I had to remind myself that it was only so prominent because I’d just gotten over my heat a few days ago. 

With another yawn, I dropped my bag by the table and went to refill my coffee thermos before I became a danger to the public. After I added a little more creamer, I leaned back against the counter with it and tried not to doze off.

When the door opened, I didn’t bother to open my eyes. It was just Marco, and if it wasn’t, the intruder would have a head-start to knock me out and get on with their business. 

“You look half dead.”

“You really know how to please a man, Marco,” I retorted lightly.

“I _told_ you you should’ve stayed home and rested another day.”

“When do I ever do what I’m told?” I finally cracked open my eyes to see the love of my life in a red plaid button-up, jeans, and boots topped with the world’s worst cowlick. “Who did your hair this morning? Daisy?”

He gave me a deadpan look and ignored my comment about his hair and his family’s pit bull. “Remind me to get some coconut water when we’re at the store.”

“Marco I’m _fine_.” Marco despised sports drinks and preferred we used more natural alternatives to replenishing electrolytes after our heats and ruts.

He opened up the cabinet and stared, probably taking stock of what we had. “Who says it’s for you? Maybe I’m getting it for me.”

“Your rut isn’t for another month,” I pointed out.

He ignored my comment. “I’ll make chicken alfredo tonight. You ready to go?”

I let it slide. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

* * *

Our trip to the store was uneventful other than the omega checker who kept making googly eyes at Marco the whole time he was buying his portion of the groceries. 

When I got back from the omega hygiene products section, I pretended I couldn’t see the blue Gatorade poking out from underneath the bag of spinach in the cart, and Marco pretended he didn’t put it there. 

* * *

It was Marco’s turn to cook, so he did that while I worked on homework and tried not to nod off. I knew the readings I had to do to get my teaching certification were important, and they were interesting sometimes, but I was _not_ having it today. There was something about classroom management that was acting more like a nighttime story than an educational resource.

“You’d think with all the coffee you drink you could stay awake past seven PM.”

“Can it,” I grumbled. “You try having your rut every other couple months and then we’ll talk.”

There was a lot of variance in omega’s heat cycles, and you could choose how often your heat came around, kind of like how birth control affects when your period comes. You could have your heats once a month or once a year depending on what you wanted. I did the one heat a year once, and I regretted it as soon as I spent a week and a half of the summer in my room in the worst pain imaginable. After that, I switched to having it every other two months. It only lasted a few days like that, and the pain was way less.

Ruts, unfortunately, couldn’t be controlled as easily. Alphas had them twice a year whether they liked it or not. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He poked at the noodles in the pan. “At least we don’t need to get air fresheners since you make the place smell like a bakery.”

I squinted. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

He threw a mischievous grin over his shoulder at me, and my heart melted a little. However, it was my job to give him a hard time, so I waited a few minutes before I said, “I mean, if it bothers you I could go freshen up somebody else’s house for a change.”

That boy looked at me so fuckin’ fast. “No.”

Oh god, that shouldn’t’ve made me feel things. “No?” I asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were the boss of me.”

His cheeks turned red, and he went back to looking at the stove. “I-I mean you can have your heats wherever you want, but I’d feel better knowing you’re here where you’re safe.”

Part of me was impressed he managed to backtrack and be that respectful. Even though we were friends, I was still his childhood friend, and alphas could be pretty possessive of things they thought were theirs. But the other part of me wanted him to stick to his guns and continue being possessive.

I shut my book. There was no way I was finishing that chapter tonight, especially since I had a week to do it. “I’m messing with you. I feel safer here than my own house.” I thought about one of my first heats when my little sister almost walked in and mentally shuddered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You never worry I’m gonna, like, hurt you when you’re under, are you?”

“No, of course not.” I took my glasses off and put those away too. “You have more self-control than anyone I know, and you’ve never given me any reason to doubt you. If anything, you should be more worried about me being here for your rut.”

His shoulders shook a little bit.

“What’s so funny?”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but you _are_ aware of how aggressive alphas get during their rut, right? If you think you could even so much as high-five me without me wanting it, you’ve got something coming.”

“Hey,” I scoffed, mock offended. I pressed my palm to my chest and tried to channel my inner southern belle. “Not all of us have time to work out eight days a week, _Marco_.”

His bright laughter bounced off the walls, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

* * *

For some reason or another, Marco and I have never been in the same place when he had his rut. One time I was stranded at home because of a nasty snowstorm, and he was at his own house when it started another time. I always felt a little guilty that I couldn’t be there to make sure he was okay, especially since he always left food in front of my bedroom door whenever I was in heat, but I was going to be there for him this time. I had to take care of him like he always took care of me. 

No, Marco and I had never been together when his rut hit, but I’ve always been there in the week or so leading up to it, and that wasn’t always a walk in the park. 

For being an alpha, he was very reserved and had an amazing sense of self-control, but he really struggled in the period leading up to his rut. We could normally banter back and forth all day, but some of my retorts would make him extra defensive and combative. I was very non-submissive for an omega, and that also caused him to get tense at times. 

He was always very good about calmly telling me how his instincts were affecting his thoughts, and I always tried to keep my attitude in check around that time, but disagreements did still happen sometimes.

I also had to be careful because his senses were heightened big time. If I closed the cabinet too hard, he would wince, and even having all the lights on like normal would hurt his eyes so bad he’d get a migraine. He assured me that this was normal for all alphas, but I had a feeling he was lying so I wouldn’t worry so much. 

It was about three weeks after my heat ended that he started showing pre-rut symptoms. I came home from classes three days in a row to find him passed out on the couch with his textbook cradled in his arms and all but one light off. Not wanting to disturb him, I threw the yellow afghan we kept in the living room over his sleeping form and went to my room to do homework. 

We had two weeks until finals week, and that meant doing all the stuff I’d been putting off for the last minute. I had three papers to write, a final presentation, and in my French class, we had to make a video with a partner about any topic we wanted as long as it was all in French (obviously) and was ten minutes long. Eren was in class with me and honestly wasn’t too bad at it--though, he was much better at German--so we decided to work on it together. 

We spent a few hours together at a cafe on a Friday afternoon trying to whip up the majority of our script so we could practice it over the weekend. Honestly, quite a bit of it was spent dicking around and talking, but we had, like, four more days to finish writing it. 

When I got home, Marco was in the shower, so I started making dinner. While I cooked, I had my laptop propped open and was reading my portion of the script that was written. I hated projects like this since I could barely memorize shit in English, let alone in _French_. Thank god my grandma was from France and was willing to look over some of my assignments to make sure they made sense. 

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Marco coming down the hall, and I looked up in time to see him come in the kitchen. “Eren’s not here?” he asked.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “No? Why would he be.”

He shrugged a little and stepped closer to me. His nose twitched. “You smell like him, so I thought he was here.”

I lifted the front of my shirt and sniffed it. I could just barely smell Eren’s sage and cedarwood scent on me, but I assumed Marco could smell it a lot more than I could at the moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can go change if you want?”

He paused for a moment before sitting down at the kitchen table. “No, it’s fine,” he said, but there was something off about his voice. 

I thought about pushing him a little more, but I decided not to. If it was really bothering him, he’d have to be a big boy and outright tell me. I couldn’t read his mind. “Okay.”

The rest of the evening was uneventful. We talked about all the stuff we had to do before the end of the semester. I told him about the script Eren and I were working on for class, and he talked to me about the final touches he was putting on the songs he had to sing for his jury. I knew he was relieved that all of his exams and his jury were going to be finished before his rut hit.

Out of every major the university had to offer, I thought it was funny that I chose to be a French teacher, and Marco chose to be a music teacher. As if the universe needed one more thing to rub in my face about how perfect we’d be together. 

After we finished eating, Marco cleared the table, and I had to fight with him to get him to just go lay down and let me finish the dishes. 

I won (barely).

* * *

“I know I sound like a broken record at this point--”

“Yeah, you do.”

“--but you mean to tell me that you and Jean live together, you both act like an old married couple, and you _still_ haven’t asked him out on a date yet?”

“ _Yes_ , Ymir,” Marco huffed. He noticed he was getting irritable faster these days, and it was hard not to snap at his cousin every time she brought the situation up to him, which was at least once a month at this point. He knew she meant well, but she didn’t know what it was like to live with Jean and how lost Marco would be without him. “We’ve been over this.”

Ymir shook her head and tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “And no matter how many times we hash this out, you _still_ refused to man up and ask him out. Get it together, dude.”

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. It wouldn’t be good to get into a fight with Ymir of all people in the middle of a busy restaurant at lunch. “Not everybody finds their dream person in college. We don’t all have a Historia to go home to.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have a Historia either if I hadn’t asked her out.”

“Wasn’t she the one that asked you out?” Marco asked.

“Irrelevant.” She waved her hand as if swatting away a fly. “One of you needs to make a move because we’re all tired of watching you two pine after each other. You _live together_ for _fuck’s sake_.”

Marco let out a long-suffering sigh. He’d told Ymir a hundred times before: Jean didn’t like him. Marco tried to keep his feelings in check because Jean was his best friend, and he didn’t know where he’d be without him. Very lost, that was for sure. 

Sometimes, though, he couldn’t help himself. He imagined what it would be like to press his nose to Jean’s temple while they slept and how it would feel to wash his hair and rub his neck and back and just _take care of him_. 

Even when he was a kid, he was attempting to show off or coddle Jean--in hindsight, it was really obvious and kinda cringy--and it wasn’t until he was in high school that he realized he liked him. Then they both had to go and present mere days after each other, and Marco realized that he much more than _liked_ him. 

Marco was also kind of nervous for Jean to actually be there during his rut because he wasn’t... well... very good at keeping quiet or keeping his pheromones in check. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, or--worse--somehow hurt or manipulate his best friend. He didn’t know if he would be able to forgive himself. 

“Exactly. _We live together_. I would know if he likes me, and if I confess, it’ll just make it awkward because our bedrooms are right next to each other.”

Ymir stared at him as if he was the biggest idiot in the world and shook her head but dropped the subject.

 _Jean doesn’t like me,_ he thought. _He’s my best friend. I’d know. Right?_

* * *

“Marco doesn’t like me, guys.”

Mikasa continued to give me a blank stare while Eren shook his head a little and went back to typing out some notes. Armin was grabbing everybody’s food from the counter and managed to miss the little scene we just had, but I had no doubts he’d figure it out in about two seconds. 

“Seriously, he doesn’t! I walk around the apartment in just a t-shirt and underwear, and I sometimes cave and steal his sweatshirts right before my heats, and I make sure he never runs out of toothpaste and granola bars. He doesn’t notice any of it!”

Armin arrived halfway through my little spiel and started distributing our food. “Marco is kinda dense, but he’s really respectful, so if he picks up on those things at all, he might not be interpreting them the same way.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know, and I adore that about him, but it’s making it really hard to confess when he’s so clueless.”

“You could just fucking tell him,” Eren muttered. I shot him a withering glare. Even Armin shook his head. God, alphas could be such boneheads.

“What about if you get him something a little more obvious?” Mikasa asked. “Or were a little more direct about a few things. Like, if you steal his sweatshirts near your heat, he probably just thinks it’s instinctual and not because you like him.”

She had a point. “So... what? Am I supposed to scent his room up or something?”

Armin hummed. “What if you made him a nest for his rut?”

“Alphas like nests?” Damn, I wished I’d paid more attention in those stupid courting classes we had to take in high school. 

Eren and Mikasa looked at each other for a moment before they looked back at us. “Kinda. The nest itself isn’t a big deal, but the idea that an omega went out of their way to fuss over us and make one for us is what we actually like if that makes sense?” Eren said.

I nodded, mulling over what he just said. “Yeah, that makes sense. But isn’t that something you do when you’re already dating and, like, committed?”

He shrugged. “Normally, yeah, but you guys have been friends since you were born. If he says he doesn’t like you, you could say that you wanted to do it for him as his childhood friend or something, but if he _does_ like you--boom! You got yourself a boyfriend.”

Internally I scoffed. He made it sound so easy. Relationships were a lot of work, and we already lived together which just complicated things. I knew that if he were to turn me down he’d be delicate about it because that was just who he was, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to truly cope with the mortification.

Armin placed his hand on mine. “I know it’s scary, but if you don’t make a move, you’ll never know for sure.”

“Something tells me he’ll be more okay with it than you think,” Mikasa added.

Eren glanced up from his laptop and made eye contact with Mikasa, and the two seemed to be having a whole conversation in that brief moment. 

I sighed, palms already getting a little clammy. “Okay. I’m gonna do it.”

* * *

Just make a nest. It’s not that hard, right? 

Theoretically, no.

Realistically, yes. 

When making something like that, you couldn’t just use _anything_. It had to be the right size, texture, scent, and weight. I knew what I liked, but what if I used the wrong stuff, and he didn’t like it? Plus, I didn’t want to just barge into his room while he was gone and make it because I didn’t want to invade his personal space. 

Well, I was going to have to do it in his room because I didn’t think he was going to want to have his rut in my room or the living room, but I couldn’t do it yet. After the semester was over I could do it because then it would be close enough to the actual start of his rut and he wouldn’t be stressing over classes _and_ my nest for him.

Yeah. I could do it later when I had more time to get some blankets and stuff for him. Until then, I was just gonna have to start stealing his shit from the laundry and sleeping with it. 

* * *

The next time we were at Walmart, I picked out three blankets and put them in the cart. Marco eyed them but didn’t say anything.

* * *

Marco was extremely on-edge. 

He was working as hard as he could to curb it, but even working out twice as long as he normally did wasn’t helping. As soon as he woke up, he felt restless, like he needed to move around. People in classes started to give him sympathetic looks as if it were _that_ obvious that he could barely sit still. 

Then he’d go home to Jean which was both a blessing and a curse. He could tell Jean was doing his best to help since he insisted on cooking and picking up around the apartment, but sometimes, it made Marco feel useless and even more anxious. What kind of a friend and roommate was he if he couldn’t even do the dishes every once in a while?

After he finished as much homework as he could stand--thankfully the end of the semester was close--he’d lay in bed and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally took over.

It was a hellish purgatory. Nothing was explicitly _wrong_ , he just felt unsettled, and it was getting worse by the day. 

It didn’t help that he noticed Jean was starting to wear one of his sweatshirts. At first, he thought he was imagining it because they both had the same one from high school, but no, this was Marco’s. He didn’t think anything of it the first time--Jean must’ve picked up the wrong one--and the second day must’ve been a coincidence, but after the third day, he figured it had to be on purpose. 

Why, though? He’d only ever done that when he was nesting, but his heat was two months away. Even then, he pretended like he wasn’t doing it even though he wasn’t very sneaky at all. This time, he was being blatantly obvious--as if he wanted Marco to see him lounging around the apartment in his clothes. 

Maybe Marco was just reading into it too much. Maybe Jean just liked wearing baggier clothes at home because they were comfy and warm, and it _was_ starting to get really cold outside. 

One thing he knew for sure was that he really liked the idea of Jean in his clothes--much more than he would’ve imagined. There was something about his snarky roommate drowning in a sweatshirt while playfully telling him to fuck off that tugged at his heartstrings.

Jesus, he was so fucking whipped

* * *

The Monday of the last week of classes, Marco caught me trying to sneak out of the apartment. 

All week he’d been really on edge between the heightened senses, the stress of classes, and the restlessness that was settling in his bones. We were watching a movie last night when he just... passed the fuck out on the couch and refused to wake up, so I plugged in his phone and left him there all night.

It was almost eight when I was gathering my stuff to leave. I heard some grumbling from the couch and looked over to see an extremely sleepy-looking Marco sitting up and squinting against the light. “Jean?”

“Hey,” I said quietly. “I’m headed to class, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

He frowned a little and rubbed the side of his face. “My jacket,” he said in a raspy voice.

I blinked. “What about your jacket?”

“Take it to school. Want you tuh...” He yawned and laid back down. “Tuh wear it.”

I debated whether I was actually going to take it or not for a few seconds before I decided fuck it and took it with me. He was actually giving me permission to wear his clothes, and I was in no position to refuse. Looks like he noticed me wearing his sweatshirt. 

As soon as I put his jean jacket on, I refused to take it off. His shoulders were broader than mine, so it was a little baggy, but it was so _comfy_ and smelled so good. I could hardly pay attention in my classes. My fingers kept rubbing the slightly rough material, and I kept bringing the sleeves to my face to breathe in his scent. By the end of the day, it smelled a little like both of us, and I knew this was something I had to put in the nest. 

* * *

The whole week before finals week was a literal hell. I had to put the finishing touches on all my papers and projects, and I was stressing out about if they were good enough. 

Eren and I got everything recorded and split up who was going to edit what. Neither of us was very good at editing videos, so at least we were struggling together. It took about twelve hours and too many coffees to finish it, but it was done, and we were actually pretty proud of it. I even made sure to send it to my grandma.

Eventually, I finished the rest of my papers and assignments. By the time they were done, my bloodstream was a mix of about 98% cortisol and caffeine, and I’d just become numb. I sent them all in with the mindset that I’d done what I could, and it wasn’t getting any better. 

Marco wasn’t fairing much better. He also was up until ungodly hours of the morning finishing up his projects, one of which was a composition assignment. I didn’t know anything about music theory, and, based on the amount of hair he was ripping out, I didn’t want to. 

I didn’t know how me wearing his jacket was affecting him. I didn’t think I was making him even more stressed, but I wasn’t totally sure until I came into the kitchen one morning to find his jacket on the back of the chair like it normally was, but it was drenched in his warm, smoky scent. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head, and I put it on immediately, shoving my hands in the pockets and all but giggling like some pre-pubescent teenager. 

I paused when my fingers brushed over a slip of paper in the right pocket that wasn’t from me. _Good luck with your presentation today :)_ was written on it in Marco’s neat handwriting, and it took me a solid minute before my brain could fully catch up on what was happening. 

I didn’t want to get my hopes up because Marco was a really sweet, caring person by nature, and he probably just assumed that I would wear the jacket, so he scented it to try and keep me calm during my presentation--which made sense since I was always a nervous wreck when I had to give speeches.

But on the other hand, it _could_ mean something a little more. Even if he was just thinking that he wanted me to smell like him to ward off other alphas, that still meant _something_. 

Still, I couldn’t get the thought of what would happen if he rejected me out of my mind, and I refused to get my hopes up until I knew for sure what his thoughts were. 

* * *

On Thursday afternoon of finals week, I decided to put my plan into action. All the blankets and other soft stuff I planned to use were folded up in my closet, and as soon as Marco left to take his last final, I pulled them out. 

It felt strange going into his room uninvited--like I was invading his privacy. I squashed the feeling down and set all the nesting items on the floor next to the bed.

Our rooms were drastically different, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think this was my room. Marco always loved light and color, and his room reflected this with his sheer white curtains, white bedspread with yellow flowers sewn in, yellow rug and pillows, and the pale pink blanket he kept neatly folded at the end of his bed. He also had a couple plants hanging from the ceiling and fairy lights hung artfully around the room. 

It was drastically different from my room which was mostly black, white, and gray with a few muted colors thrown in here and there. I had a single succulent on my desk because for some ungodly reason, I couldn’t keep any plants alive. Even then Marco had to remind me what day to water it since I couldn’t remember.

You’d expect the bright, yellow room to smell like honey and vanilla like mine did, but it smelled like smoke and chai, warmth and safety. 

I started by putting the thickest blankets down first and shaped it like a horseshoe with the opening toward the foot of the bed. I moved his pillows a bit so it would help hold the shape and continued to add more and more layers to it until it was the perfect amount of soft and firm. I had the urge to burrow in it myself and make sure it felt just right, but I could let Marco make the final adjustments himself. It was for him, after all. 

As a final touch, I folded up the jean jacket and the sweatshirt I’d been hoarding for the past two or three weeks and set them inside it. Stepping back, I inspected it for any flaws. When I was sure there weren’t any, I left and made sure to shut the door behind me. There wasn’t anything else I could do besides wait, so I settled on the couch and tried to pay attention to this book I’d been wanting to read for ages. 

I was a lot more nervous than I cared to admit. What if he didn’t like it? Did I make it too soft? Was he gonna get upset that I was in his room without asking him? And--worse--what if he didn’t like me at all? Yeah, I had the backup plan, but I really didn’t want to have to suck up my pride and lie about my feelings after I finally got the courage to tell--well, show--him how I feel. 

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I was barely aware of Marco opening the front door and coming in. 

“Oh, h-hey. How was your final?”

He bent over to untie his shows and slip them off. “Not bad. I think I studied enough to get a high B at least.”

I shut my book and set it on the coffee table. “That’s good! At least you’re done with all your science gen eds now.”

He hummed in agreement and rubbed his eyes. “True that. Hey, wanna just order takeout for dinner? I’m fucking starving.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” If he could tell that I was on edge, he didn’t say anything. “Chinese food okay?”

His eyes lit up and he smiled bashfully as if I didn’t know that that was his absolute favorite. “If that’s okay with you?”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean I _guess_ we can have Chinese food. You just know how much I hate orange chicken.”

His smile got a little warmer as he came over to flop down on the couch next to me with a big huff. The past few days his scent got... darker, and I could tell he was ready to start his rut any second. “We made it. We’re all done.”

I kicked his ankle. “Don’t be so dramatic. We both knew you were gonna do fine.”

“Oh, I knew I was gonna be fine. _You_ on the other hand...”

I gasped and smacked his thigh as hard as I could, making him laugh and jump off the couch. “You’re so fucking mean!”

“If I was so mean I wouldn’t buy you Chinese food, would I?” he retorted, moving around the back of the couch and tugging on the collar of my shirt. “Or let you wear my clothes.”

My face heated up, and I was about to retort when I saw that he was headed to his room. 

“Hey, I’m gonna change into pajamas. Can you call and place the order?”

I jumped off the couch as my heart lodged itself in my throat. Was I supposed to say something and warn him? Did I follow him to his room?

Before I could make a decision, he swung open his door and froze just inside his room. When he didn’t move for about a minute, I came up behind him. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to say, and my nerves made the word-vomit come out. 

“I-I’m sorry I went in your room, but I’ve never been around for your rut, and I wanted to do something nice for you ‘cause you’ve been so stressed, and you always take care of me when I’m in heat. And don’t feel like you have to use it if you don’t want to! Or-or if you--"

"You made this for... for me?" He still hadn’t moved a muscle.

I slowly moved toward him. "I--well, yeah, it’s in your room. Who else--wait. Are you crying?"

He reached up and swiped under his eyes. "Shut up," he said, but his voice was wobbly. "I-I wasn’t expecting something like this, okay?”

I wrung my hands, unsure of what I should do with them. “Is it okay? It’s okay if you don’t like it I--”

My words were cut off by him reaching out and pulling me into a tight bear hug. I tensed for a moment and then relaxed against his chest, clutching his t-shirt in my fists. He was warm and solid and held me so close that there was no space between us at all. I swore I could feel his heart beating against my fingers. 

"No, I love it. It's perfect," he mumbled into my hair, brushing his nose over the shell of my ear. 

Any remaining tension I had instantly dissipated, and all I could think was, _He likes it. He likes it. He_ likes _it._

"I'm glad you like it." My voice was muffled against his neck. "I was worried."

He pulled back just enough for us to look at each other. "Why?"

I felt my face heat up, and I couldn't bring myself to look up past his collarbones. "Because I didn't want you to think I was invading your space, especially so close to your rut, and I didn't know if you'd be... _okay_ with something like this. And I..." My voice dropped nearly to a whisper as knots twisted in my stomach. "And I _like_ you, Marco, and it's okay if you don't like me back, but I just had to tell you because I've liked you for years, and I never told you because I didn't want to make things weird between us."

Well, there went my backup plan.

The silence stretched on between us for what felt like hours before he finally said, "Years?"

I faltered and looked up at him to see him staring intently at me. This was... not the reaction I expected. "Yes?"

"Jean, I--" He broke off, laughing to himself and shaking his head at the ceiling. " _I_ like _you_ , and I didn't tell you either for the same reasons."

The both of us stared at each other for a long moment before we started giggling and soon both of us were laughing and holding each other. He rocked me as I started _sobbing_ with relief. Not only did I still have my best friend, he _liked me too._

Somehow, we ended up on his bed in the nest. Instinctively, I started fussing with it and, pushing and pulling it until it was to my liking. Marco watched with an amused glimmer in his eyes and let me have my way with all the blankets and pillows. As soon as I was done, he let me pull him down with me and wrapped me up in his arms. 

For a few moments, we just... laid there. I knew I was still in disbelief about the whole situation, and I figured it was safe to assume Marco was too. It wasn't every day you found out the love of your life liked you back too.

"We still have to talk about this," he murmured.

I hummed, enjoying the feeling of him running his fingers through my hair. Honestly, I was about 20 seconds from falling asleep. "In a little bit."

He playfully tugged on a lock of my hair. "Hey, don't fall asleep or you won't get any food."

"Not my fault you're comfy."

"C'mon." He sat up and grabbed my hands while I whined. A normal nest was comfy but it was downright heaven when I was surrounded by everything Marco. "I'll order takeout, and we can watch a movie on the couch."

I huffed and allowed him to pull me up. "You drive a hard bargain, Bodt."

He flashed me a heart-melting smile, still holding my hand. "Well, you better get used to it, Kirschtein--you're stuck with me."

**Author's Note:**

> I already have a little more written for this, so I'll probably write another piece about how their relationship progresses if any of you are interested in that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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